Strike Team Delta Takes the Bus
by aprill99
Summary: To complete an impossible mission to take down a Russian arms manufacturer experimenting with Gamma radiation, Coulson calls in Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov. The master assassins will have to adjust to Coulson's new team, and temporary life on the bus. Written purely because I wanted to see Clintasha on The Bus and almost no one was writing it. Hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

** Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Like, seriously, my parents bought me the computer I'm writing this on. Not that I'd be complaining if I owned Jeremy Renner. Have you seen that man's biceps? They're practically the size of my head. Any way... on with the story.**

"Are you sure that there's no way in sir?" Grant Ward asked his boss Phil Coulson. The two men were examining a set of detailed building plans for a compound belonging to a Russian weapons manufacturer. Normally S.H.I.E.L.D would have just passed off a job like this to the CIA or Homeland Security, but this particular weapons manufacturer had been experimenting with gamma radiation. Based on past experiments conducted with the energy source, it became S.H.I.E.L.D's juristiction.

Coulson turned to the younger man with his typically blank if slightly amused face. "Why don't you tell me Agent Ward? You are the logistics expert."

Grant frowned, his jaw tightening. He turned to Melinda May, known to the greater agency simply as "The Cavalry". "You got anything?"

The Asian women shook her head. "According to these plans the compound is unbreachable. Laser fields, electrically charged exterior walls, land mines embedded in the floors, no skylights, and the only windows are two far off the ground to even think about going in that way. Besides, they're triple paned bullet resistant storm glass."

"I can't hack in without being on sight," Skye said from her position in one of the padded seats situated around the conference table. "All of the cables are grounded, and the building security is controlled by a remote Drakov keeps on his person. If someone could get me close than maybe I could-"

Ward cut her off before she could finish the sentence, "You are not going anywhere except your bunk, the kitchen, a couch, the bathroom, or this conference room." After Skye had nearly died from being shot, Grant had found himself feeling very protective of his trainee. But protective suited him. It was an attitude he was comfortable in after growing up guarding his younger brother. He and May had split while Skye was still in the hospital, not that May had ever needed protecting anyway.

Skye grumbled but winced and settled back into her chair.  
Coulson was thinking hard. Drakov was a slimy business man, but he was smart. If he was going to be taken down it would take a two man team, probably one that would be comfortable carrying out an execution if one became necessary. One person inside and one person out side watching their back. If they could get someone inside that person could access the remote that controlled the security system to let in back up. If someone inside could get security feeds compromised then Skye and FitzSimmons would be able to help from the Bus.

He pulled out his cell phone and began to navigate his speed dial menu.

"Who are you calling Sir?" Simmons asked in her polite British voice.

"I'm calling in backup Simmons," Coulson said simply. "I think it might be time to call in Strike Team Delta."

"That's nothing I've ever heard up," Fitz said in confusing.

"Me neither," said Skye. "And I made it my business to hack every important S.H.I.E.L.D file in the database before I joined up with you guys."

May rolled her eyes once and turned to Coulson. "Is this really necessary Sir?"

"Agent May, unless you can name another set of partners as good as the two of them then I would classify this as absolutely necessary." may remained silent. Coulson nodded. "That's what I thought." However he did relent slightly by placing the phone on speaker in the middle of the table.

The sound of crashing objects and shattering glass echoed along the line followed by a loud thud and a grunt of pain. "Hello?" said a female voice.

"Agent Romanov," Coulson greeted. "Are you busy at the moment?"

Another round of impact noises sounded through the line before the female agent spoke again. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Good. Is agent Barton with you?"

"Yeah, give me a moment and I'll get him." a sound that Coulson suspected was a chair breaking preceded another shout of pain. "Hawk!" Agent Romanov called to another party that was unknown to the team excluding May and Coulson. "Coulson is on the phone."

A moment later a male voice came on over the line. "Are you making calls from beyond the grave now Sir?" The joking question was followed by a swift _thwap. _For some reason, Skye imagined that the man on the other end was probably grinning.

"Barton," Coulson scolded lightly. "You knew as soon as I came back in to work that I was alive. "Now what's your twenty?"

"You scarred the shit out of all of us with that little stint," Agent Barton told him matter of factly. Nat and I are on a mission in Boston."

Coulson frowned as more thumping noises and the sound of many things breaking echoed down the line. "How soon will you be wrapping up?"

Another _thwap _sounded. "Why? What are you working?"

"A Russian arms dealer with an impenetrable compound." Coulson outlined. "I thought you and agent Romanov might be able to work something out."

"Russian," Barton commented dryly. "Nat'll be thrilled. We'll wrap up here in ten. Probably be ready to go in two hours."

"Good," Coulson approved. "We'll pick you two up at Logan's private landing strip in three hours. And Hawkeye?"

"Yeah?" the man shouted back over the sound of a shattering clash.

"Try not to break too many people. I have to do the paperwork every time you two send someone else to the med bay." Phil Coulson could picture the almost evily gleeful look on master assasin Clint Barton's face.

"You of all people know that I don't make promises I can't keep Sir. I don't plan on starting now."

Then the connection went dead.

**A/N: So how was it? Is this something I should continue, or would it be better to abandon it forever? Totally your call people of the internet. I plan for the couples to be Sky/Ward and Clintasha.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I think that would make me Joss Whedon. I am not him. I'm not even sure I spelled his nae right. If I were him, I would own Buffy, Angel, and Firefly. Plus the attractive men would spend more time shirtless.**

When the plane landed at Logan, four out of six of the agents on board had no clue what to expect. Skye and FitzSimmons had managed to find files for agents Barton, C and Romanov, N but hadn't been able to access them. Ward had attempted using his security code just as Coulson had walked in and said, "I'll clear this up for you right now, those files are so classified that a level seven security clearance is barely half as high as the one you'd need to see them." And as Skye was on good behavior in regards to hacking, the agents stayed a mystery.

Their first glimpse of the agents came when a deceptively petite women with short red hair stepped daintily onto The Bus. She had pale skin and small facial features. Her eyes were a bright green that gave nothing away in regard to her emotions. She wore the same S.H.I.E.L.D jump suit that may wore, although the cut seemed slightly different. She carried a large black duffel bag that she placed lightly on the floor out of everyone's way. The crew guessed that she must be Agent Romanov.

Her partner was almost immediately identifiable as being opposite to her. Agent Barton wasn't overly tall, in fact he was shorter than Ward, but he was easily half a foot taller than Agent Romanov. Barton may have been shorter than Ward, but he was built like a first rate athlete. As he entered The Bus he let out an appreciative whistle as he let his own duffel drop onto the couch. "Nice digs," he commented. His voice was warm and cheerful. "Nothing like a painful death at the hands of an alien invader from outer space to give you some material for guilt trips." He turned to Ward first. "Clint Barton. Code name Hawkeye. Good to meet you."

"Likewise," Ward agreed. "I'm agent Grant Ward. These are scientific agents Fitz and Simmons," he nodded to each team member respectively. "This is our computer hacker Skye. Agent Melinda May is still upfront in the cockpit."

Barton grinned. "Oh good. I haven't seen the Cavalry in years. Not since we did that job back in Iceland. Remember that Nat?"

"I still do not understand why everyone insists on calling a country with no ice Iceland and a country covered in snow Greenland," Agent Romanov mused. All agents original to the bus wondered what exactly 'Nat' was short for. The mystery was cleared up a moment later when she said. "I'm Agent Natasha Romanov code name Black Widow. Now," she looked around expectantly. "Where is Agent Coulson?"

Barton spoke before anyone could answer her. It was all for the best really, no one actually knew where their team leader was. "Relax Nat," he said nodding to Skye as he kicked back on the couch next to her. The hacker had been located there by Ward with strict orders to stay there when she had nearly fallen over getting to the kitchen that morning. "I'm sure Coulson will be here in a moment. Try to enjoy the comfortable chairs, the working air condition, the aroma of government coffee, and the apparent lack of people trying to kill us."

Skye managed to find her voice. She had spent a good few minutes simply ogling the muscles bared by Barton's T-shirt. "Dude you're ripped," she said. "Your biceps are like the size of my head."

Agent Barton nodded to her. "Thank you. I think."

Skye was still slightly in awe. "How does that even happen to someone? Simmons, You're the Bio Chem girl how does that happen?"

"I would hazard a guess at a great deal of physical labor," the Brit supplied. "Perhaps a refined exercise regime?"

"His weapon of choice is a bow and arrow," Natasha said dryly from the position she had taken by the window. "You need to be strong to use it."

"Well I see you're all getting to know each other. "Coulson's voice said from the door way.

Fitz chose that moment to speak up. "Well we've been trying to. So far we've gotten first names and established that Agent Barton has rather impressive biceps."

"Thanks for that assessment Fitz," Grant said, clapping the Scotsman on the shoulder.

Natasha gave a rare smile and stood up to greet Coulson with a quick hug. "It's good to see you Sir."

"You as well Natasha," the older man greeted warmly. He looked over her shoulder. "And you Clint? You two haven't broken anyone else too badly since I last saw you have you?"

"No one who didn't deserve it," Agent Barton assured him. "Besides, not one of them can prove anything now, your paperwork should be minimal." Natasha stepped back and Barton moved to shake Coulson's hand. "How are you sure."

Coulson smiled slightly. "As good as ever."

Agent Barton dug into one of his many pockets and extracted a small pack of what looked like playing cards. They showed Captain America, and appeared to be spotted with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood. "I got these from Fury and got Steve to sign them for you. They're only a little bit blood stained."

"Thank you Hawkeye," Coulson said sincerely. "Now you all might want to strap in and get comfortable. May says it's wheels up in five and it's a long flight to Moscow. Ward," he made eye contact with the younger agent. "Help Skye."

"What happened?" Natasha asked as Skye grumbled about Coulson's order. Grant ignored her and instead scooped her up into the rough cradle of his arms computer and all.

Skye leaned over Grant's shoulder to look at the red head. "I got shot twice in the stomach. These guys are all being overprotective."

"We wouldn't seem so overprotective if you were resting the way you're supposed to," Ward told her shortly. He looked over at Clint. "You and Agent Romanov can put your stuff in the last two bunks on the end."

Both assassins nodded their thanks before moving their gear towards their respective rooms.

When it was only Coulson and FitzSimmons left in the common room Fitz asked, "Sir, no offense but why do we need them? They seem so normal."

Coulson looked at him. "You know how May is the Cavalry?" Both Fitz and Simmons nodded. "Well, those two 'normal' people are the Air Force, Navy Seals, Green Barrett's, Infantry, and a large percentage of the combined U.S intelligence services." With that oh so casual remark, Coulson turned and walked away, humming a mindless tune as he went.

**A/N: So? Thoughts? I tried to get all of the characters at least close to accurate. How did I do with that? I hope you liked the bit with the Captain America cards. Review for me! xoxoxoxoxox**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Okay, let's think about this logically for just a second. If I owned the Avengers or Agents of SHIELD, this would have gone into the movie or show not the internet. Also I would be making money from this. Sadly, all this gains me is some insight into the glorious world of semi-sleep deprivation.**

Barton dropped off his bags and equipment on the bed in his appointed room. He paused a moment to take stock of his temporary home. The fact that there was only one exit made him feel a little bit twitchy, but he guessed that there was nothing to do about it on a plane. If he really had to he could use an explosive arrow from his gear to punch a hole in the paneling. The bunk was standard issue. The bed could have belonged in any hospital or hotel room on the planet. The dresser was designed to store things safely during flight, and to take advantage of the limited space available. The space would probably seem much more homey with personal items in it, but Clint had learned a long time ago to always figure out exactly how long you would be staying someplace before settling in.

Turning on the spot, Clint slid the door shut behind him and moved down the hall towards Natasha's appointed room. He knocked once, a measure that was equally respectful and self-interested. He was one of the few people who could walk up behind Natasha without being detected, and the only time he had ever made the mistake of startling her had been enough to not do it again.

"Come in," Natasha said evenly.

Barton slid the door open and leaned his back against the door way. Natasha's room was essentially an exact replica of his. It crossed his mind that Ikea must make a fortune on S.H.I.E.L.D purchases.

Nat had done the same thing he had, placing her packed bags neatly at the foot of her bed. The agent herself was sitting cross legged on her bed holding a book titled in Russian that Clint could only half see as the rest was covered by her hand. "I was going to see if this place had any food. Got any requests?"

Natasha mulled it over for a moment. Clint Barton was not a world class cook by any means, but he could cover the basics. Besides, after you'd chowed down on goat meat, army rations, canned haggis, and some form of insect from Africa that shall remain nameless, things like grilled cheese sandwiches were practically gourmet cooking.

"How about scrambled eggs?" she suggested.

Clint grinned. "Breakfast for dinner. I bet I can even find some bacon in this place."

When in doubt, follow your nose. It was one of life's golden rules. At least, it was in Skye's book. Ward had carried her to her bunk and settled her in her bed, tucking her under the covers like a little kid. He had proceeded, with some slight prompting from her to settle in to a chair and keep her company. She had played the board card, and done the big brown eyes trick. Grant had fallen asleep twenty minutes later.

Skye had tried to sift through some files for information on Agents Barton and Romanov, but had been stone walled. The smell of cooking bacon had eventually reached her and made her stomach growl. She slowly rolled out of bed and placed her feet on the floor, she had managed to stand using her bedside table for some leverage.

She made her way carefully down the hallway towards the kitchen. Her stomach twinged painfully every few steps, but she managed. The promise of good food made the slight pain worth it. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and felt her jaw drop. Agent Barton was whisking a bowl of eggs while Agent Romanov poured milk into multiple cups of coffee. She turned and added milk to the mixing eggs before spinning behind Barton and putting the carton back into the refrigerator.

"Cheese?" Barton asked, holding out a hand.

Romanov tossed him a bag of shredded cheese and shut the refrigerator door. She took over the eggs from Barton and poured them into a pan on the stove as he used his superior height to pull a package of bacon out of the microwave. The toaster dinged and he reached down with one hand to pull out several slices of toasted bread. Romanov turned to the cutting board and began slicing fruit as Barton turned and mixed the half cooked eggs. The way the two of them moved was like a perfectly choreographed routine.

As all of the food finished, both agents began filling plates. "Want some food?" Barton called as he moved towards the table. Skye blushed at being caught, she wondered how long he had known she was there. Natasha smiled slightly as she sat and started in on her eggs. "There's plenty if you're hungry," Barton said casually.

"Um, yeah thanks," Skye said, moving carefully into the kitchen.

Agent Barton set his plate down and began moving back towards the food. "Sit, I got it. You shouldn't be walking around much after taking two bullets to the stomach." He began dishing up a plate of food and poured another cup of coffee. He managed to juggle it with the sugar pot and a bottle of cream. It was really pretty impressive.

He delivered everything to the table and sat down next to Natasha with his own plate. "Are you speaking from experience Barton?" Skye asked as she took a bite of toast.

Barton shrugged. "Getting shot isn't fun no matter where. Last I checked a lot of important stuff was in the general area." It was a very evasive answer.

Natasha added a small spoon full of sugar to her coffee and stirred it before taking a sip. "Hawk did Coulson say weather I would need to speak Russian for this job?"

Her partner shrugged and took a large gulp of his own coffee. "The arms dealer is named Alexi Drakov so it's not out of the question."

"Did you actually do the reading this time?"

Barton pulled a face as his coffee burned his tongue. "Not really. His name was highlighted a lot in the file." Natasha muttered something in Russian that Skye assumed was her calling Agent Barton an idiot. The redhead then took another large gulp of her coffee and gathered another forkful of eggs into her mouth with military precision. Barton pointed, "See? I'm already helpful. I gave you a chance to practice your Russian again."

"Do you guys always drink this much coffee before bed time?" Skye asked, slightly incredulously.

Both agents paused, looking down at their drinks. Natasha gave a tiny shrug. "We were working a op in Scotland before we got time off and went to Boston," she explained. "Our bodies haven't adjusted to the time zone change yet."

Agent Barton rolled his eyes. "Be honest Tasha, our bodies are never up on time zone changes. It's really just a question of when we pass out. After that we're pretty much back on track." He drained his coffee cup and began shoveling down eggs.

Skye gave up the line of questioning and took a bite from a piece of bacon. It tasted really, really, good. "Where did you learn to cook?" she asked.

"Around," Barton said casually. "I'm much better than Tony and Thor anyway. Bruce is pretty damn good though."

"What is doctor Banner pretty damn good at?" Coulson asked as he entered the room.

"Cooking," Natasha answered. She poured a cup of black coffee and handed it to Coulson.

The team leader took the coffee and sat down. "Thank you agent Romanov. When has Thor or Tony ever tried to cook anything other than re-heating take out?"

"They blew up the stove at The Avengers Tower."

Coulson took a sip of his coffee. "Is that what Stark's calling it now?"

Barton shrugged. "All the letters but the A fell off during the battle," he supplied. "Stark decided it was a sign or something."

Skye nearly spat out her bite of eggs. "Tony Stark? Thor? Dr. Bruce Banner? That's who you guys work with? You're freaking Avengers?!"

Romanov and Barton both gave Coulson loaded looks. The older man sighed. "The cat was going to come out of the bag eventually."

"There was no record of either of you at the battle!" Skye exclaimed. "No posts, no footage, no tweets, nothing!"

"There wasn't supposed to be either," Natasha muttered into her coffee cup.

Skye gaped, her mouth moving like a fish. Barton and Natasha cleared the dishes and Clint sprayed her with a bit of water out of the sink. The spy swore at her partner in Russian and the two of them disappeared down the hall, bickering as they went.

Coulson held up a hand to stem the inevitable flow of questions from Skye. "Skye I know you have questions, but like I told you before all of the files on those two are classified at a level not even Agent May can access. As things are all I can tell you as that both agents Barton and Romanov have highly evolved skill sets that played parts instrumental in defeating Loki at the Battle of New York. They are also both registered members of the Avengers Initiative. Out side of that all I can say is that there is a pool going on how long it will take them to get married."

"I would have thought that would go against protocol," Skye managed to joke slightly.

Phil Coulson cracked a smile. "There's an exception to every rule. Besides," his smile grew wider. "When else am I going to get to play father of the bride?"

**A/N: So how was it? I'm sorry this chapter took a while. I was in Florida with my crew team. The next chapters are probably going to have time gaps to, high school really eats up your time. Review for me! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Do I own any of this or gain a profit from it? Hahahahahahhahahah ha ha haha. No. I don't. It would be really nice if I did. I don't. The universe sucks that way don't it?**

There were many things that Natasha Romanov was good at. The rather extensive list included small arms knowledge, advanced martial arts, and fluency in almost any language anyone really cared about trying to speak. Unfortunately, one of the things this list did not include was waiting. She couldn't help it, she was just not an overly patient person. Natasha's area of specialization was getting in quickly and then finishing a job as efficiently as possible. Also unfortunately, the flight from Boston to Moscow was not what most sane people would describe as "short".

This combination of circumstances was making Natasha feel fidgety. Clint was feeling slightly less uneasy than Natasha was, but only slightly. His reasoning for being uncomfortable was different as well. Clint was a sniper, waiting for a particular event to take place was something he excelled at. It was essentially 90% of his job on a typical day. He was feeling uncomfortable because, roomy though The Bus may be, it was still a flying metal tube. Like most people who were spending an extended amount of time on a plane, he was feeling cooped up.

Natasha looked over at Clint. "Do you think we can find a training room around here?"

Clint sprang up. "Dear God I hope so. I know they've at least got a punching bag. At the very least we can get some hand to hand work done."

Natasha nodded. It was better than sitting around doing nothing. "Let's get changed and meet back here in five."

Skye was grumbling. Ward had woken her up at five in the morning. Skye still wasn't as used to crossing time zones as her S.O. was. Ward hadn't even bothered with trying to wait for her to get out of bed herself. Instead he had creatively bypassed the problem by shaking her until she woke up enough to start yelling at him for waking her up and then scooped her out of bed.

Skye looked around the room Ward had stopped in and rubbed her eyes. "Ward, why are we in the training room at five in the morning? You know Simmons is still willing to kill me if I even so much as think the words "physical exertion."

Grant set her on her feet but kept an arm around her waist. He told himself it was to keep her upright, but he actually enjoyed the feeling of a warm and sleepy Skye in his arms. He indicated for her to keep quiet and directed her attention to the sound of punches coming from the padded part of the training room.

Skye murmured something along the lines of hating morning people and looked to where Grant was pointing. All she could see was a railing, this new discovery led to equal grievances against tall people. Skye stretched upwards on to her tip toes like a ballerina and used Ward's shoulder as an anchor point so she didn't accidentally tip over. What she saw below made her jaw drop.

Agents Barton and Romanov were fighting on the mats. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. This level of fighting was clearly no pads, mixed arts, acrobatic, no holds barred, fighting. Both agents moved together in steps that seemed almost choreographed. It was impossible to tell who had the upped hand as both bodies were moving in constant fluctuation.

Skye had now been trained enough to pin point that Agent Romanov and Agent Barton had very different fighting styles. Natasha's was more areal and acrobatic where as Clint anticipated movements and aimed for pressure points. The only reason that neither agent had gained the upper hand was that both styles were equally effective.

In the next second, Natasha had flipped into the air and dropped Barton onto the ground. Instead of fighting back with force like Skye expected, he reached up and tickled his partners ribs. She collapsed sideways trying not to laugh. Soon both agents were lying flat on the mats chuckling.

Skye's mouth dropped open. That level of fighting was what these two considered _playing. _She looked at Ward with wide eyes, or wider eyes than usual. Ward just quirked an eyebrow and nodded back over the railing.

Skye rolled her eyes and grudgingly moved back on to her toes. Her feet were aching by now. Ward locked an arm around her waist, moving her in closer to his body to take some of her weight. Skye gave him a grateful look and then went back to eves dropping on two master assassins.

"Feeling better?" Barton asked his partner.

"Much," Natasha said happily.

Barton rolled lightly into a sitting position. "Good."

Agent Romanov pushed herself up on her elbow to look at him. She frowned, "What are you thinking?"

Barton mulled over his answer for another moment before giving it. "I'm wondering how we're going to play this opp. If this compound is as protected as Coulson is saying then it's going to be nearly impossible for me to find a good vantage point to take a shot from. If you're working inside it'll be difficult for me to cover you."

"I'm sure you'll be able to figure something out," Natasha said calmly. "We'll do this job the way we always do. Get in, get done, get out. By then something will probably have gone badly enough that they'll need us for something else."

Skye saw Agent Barton nod. The man spun his eyes around the room. It might have been her imagination, but it looked like his eyes stopped on her and Ward's place for a moment. The male agent met his partners eyes again. "What do you think of the little group Coulson's put together here."

The red head tilted her face to the side slightly. "I think he's building a team, the way he built us. It's either going to be unbeatable or tear it's self apart from the inside out."

Barton leaned forward until his face was blocked from Skye's view by Natasha's hair and murmured something. Her mouth quirked into a tiny smile as Barton withdrew and placed a small kiss on her cheek. Skye felt her jaw hit the floor at the last action as Hawkeye rolled smoothly upright and pulled Black Widow up after him.

The sniper stretched and checked his watch. "We've still got four hours before we touch down in Moscow. We should try to sleep for at least half that if we're going to be infiltrating an arms dealer's compound tomorrow." He fixed his eyes directly on the place were Ward and Skye were standing. "That advice goes for you to by the way," he called neutrally.

Skye dropped down and back against Wards arm. She was sure her cheeks were bright red. "How long do you think he's known we were here?" she whispered.

"If I were you I would be more worried about the fact that both of us can still hear you," Natasha commented, appearing almost silently at the top of the stairs in front of them. "Or at least," the ex-Russian shrugged. "I can."

"I can hear them to," Barton commented as he walked slightly more obviously up the stairs. "My hearing wasn't that damaged Tash," he said as they all began to leave the room.

Skye frowned. "What's wrong with your hearing?"

Clint shrugged. "There was an explosion on a job in Surinam. I was standing too close. Lost nearly 5% of the hearing in my left ear and at least 7% in my right. It's generally not enough to be a problem but I wear hearing aides in the field to be safe."

Natasha pulled him down the hallway muttering something to him in Russian.

"Tasha it's late," Skye heard Barton complain. "Talk to me in English please."

"You need practice," Natasha said in a business like voice. "People in Moscow tend to speak Russian."

The last thing Skye heard of their conversation was Barton murmuring words in a language she didn't understand, but guessed had to be Russian. "Ya tebya lyublyu slishkom."

Skye turned to Ward. "What did that last bit mean? Was it Russian."

"Hm?" Ward asked absently. "Oh yeah. It was."

"So what does it mean?"

Ward was silent a moment before answering. He reached out and lightly tucked a strand of her hair away from her face. "It means I love you to." With that translation Ward slipped away into his own room, leaving Skye thoroughly confused.

**A/N: So how was it? I'm sorry again about how long it took to do this. I hope it was nice and fluffy for all of you guys. Leave a review for me! Xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxo.**

**p.s. My birthday is this Tuesday! (I'm totally not kidding)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Look, I'm writing this in my bedroom at home when I should be studying for an English test on Great Expectations. I highly doubt that Joss Whedon a) writes from his bed while watching Burn Notice or b) takes English tests on Great Expectations. Also, (and this is a very important also) he gets _paid _to write this stuff.**

There was a certain upshot to never keeping a regular sleep schedule. The upshot being that when your body says it's time to sleep, jet lag ceases to be a problem. For people living with a nearly constant case of what most people would consider sleep deprivation combined with a near constant adrenaline high, not much sleep went pretty far. That was how it came to be possible for both Clint and Natasha to go near comatose for approximately three and a half hours and wake up feeling refreshed.

Ward, Coulson, Fitz, and Simmons found the two agents doing something so domestic it nearly scrambled the brains of three quarters of the people assembled. The two were kicking back on the couch watching TV. Natasha was sipping a cup of tea with her bare feet on Barton's lap. Barton was munching an apple with his feet on the coffee table.

"Barton," Coulson called. "Feet off the table please it's cherry wood."

Clint shifted so that his feet were on the floor, but not enough to dislodge Natasha. "There's a fresh pot of coffee on the counter sir."

"Thank you Agent Barton. That's remarkably thoughtful of you." Coulson poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in a chair around the same coffee table where the strike team sat. "If my estimation of time is correct we should be touching down in Moscow in-"

"Fifty- six minutes and approximately thirty-two seconds," Natasha said, speaking for almost the first time since she had woken up. She glanced at Clint's watch. "Sorry," she abbreviated. "That's seventeen seconds."

"Incredible!" Simmons exclaimed. "It's as though time keeping has been wired as a sub program in your brain."

"It was," Natasha said stiffly, taking another sip of her tea.

That commented led to several minutes of awkward silence as the agents ate their respective breakfasts. Barton finished his apple and launched it backwards into the compost just as Skye shuffled into the kitchen. "Whoa," she said sleepily. "Good aim."

Her answer to the compliment was a quarter zinging through the air into a box of pop tarts. The toast able breakfast food dropped onto the kitchen counter in front of her with a muffled sort of _thump. _"Thanks," she said, opening a pop tart and putting it in the toaster.

May walked in from the cockpit a while later to find the entire group sitting down in the living room finishing their food. Ward had dropped in to the seat next to Skye and one of his arms was not around her exactly, but lying on the back of the sofa behind her head. Natasha still had her feet on Barton's lap, and FitzSimmons had woken up enough to start in on their techno-babble. Coulson was simply observing the scene, half-smiling like a doting parent.

"Sir?" May said. "We should be landing in half an hour. Now might be a good time to establish our strategy for the op."

Coulson stood. "Good plan. Agents, I suggest we move to the conference room for this."

Move they did, and within ten minutes they were surrounding the holographic table in the conference room. "This is what I propose," Coulson said. "Agent Romanov will infiltrate the compound through this door here," he reached out and tapped the route he meant. "With help from Agent's Ward and May to create an opening you should be able to get through the doors."

"According to all of the intelligence I could find, Drakov will be in this room here," Skye manipulated her keyboard to show another room. "It's also where the computers are. I tried to hack in but I'd have to be on site."

"That's where you come in Agent Barton," Coulson said, addressing the sniper. "In addition to covering our team on the ground you will need to fire a flash drive tipped arrow into the computer system."

"I have the prototype in my lab," Fitz supplied. "You can test it before the op."

Barton reached forward and zoomed outwards from the three dimensional image. "Sight lines could be a potential problem. To get a physically possible line I'll need to infiltrate this guard tower and shoot from there. Once I'm in there shouldn't be a problem."

"At that distance with a compact bow the only way to make that shot would be a miracle," May said in a tone that was clearly meant to shut down the idea.

Barton turned, and when he looked at May there was no sign of Clint left. He was pure Hawkeye. "May I ran out of miracles by surviving until I turned nineteen. I'm running on pure ability now. I've made harder shots than that before and I'm sure I'll make harder ones in the future. I won't even have to blink an eye."

"How is any accuracy at that distance possible?" Simmons asked. "You'd need scopes or-"

Barton cut her off. "The muscles in my eye are nearly four times as strong as the average person's. A scope is over kill. Literally."

"Sir?" Natasha questioned. "With Drakov are you aiming to take him in or down."

"In would be preferrable but if you wind up going with down I won't get too fussy." Coulson replied. "Now let's wrap this up and get our gear."

**A/N: So how was it? I know it's not quite as fluffy as before but stories have this wacky necessity for plot. How did you like Barton getting Skye pop tarts? Review for me! xxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxo**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Uh, no.**

The scary thing about pain in the cases of most people was the fact that it hurt. Too most people that was a generally accepted truth. Pain hurts. It was the kind of common knowledge English teachers used as an example of the kind of thing you didn't have to cite in a bibliography.

The scary thing about pain to Clint Barton, was the fact that in most cases it was getting hard to feel anymore. He had just gotten used to it. Which, when he thought about it, made him worry that he was slightly more screwed over mentally than he had assumed. That's why he tried not to think about it too much. Luckily, things he didn't feel, were things that were the easiest for him not to think about.

_Feelings _in general were just plain not smart to begin with in Clint's line of work. Unfortunately, emotions regarding his partner seemed to pop up like they were in the game of wack-a-mole. Exploring those emotions would only lead to the kind of mental pain you can't actually help but feel.

Physical pain, say the kind you got in your arms after punching through several security guards when you were on a tight schedule, was much easier to be numb to. Clint launched his fist into the gut of a security guard. When the man doubled over, he slammed his elbow into the guards neck. The time when punching things hurt the way it was supposed to had passed a long time ago.

He climbed the stairs of the guard tower easily. He moved a table to clear the space he needed before remembering that someone should probably start using the coms units before they gave Coulson an ulcer. "Alright party people. I am in position. What's your status? Agent May?"

There was a small thump before May's cool response of "under control," came over the unit.

Hawkeye nodded. "Agent Ward?"

The sound of shattering glass graced Clint's ears. "I'm good here," Ward said calmly.

Clint nodded one more time. He hadn't really been worried about either one of the agent's, but checking in seemed like the responsible team oriented thing to do. "Nat, if you're ready to go I have a clean line of sight to cover you."

"Right," Natasha said in a business like tone. "I should be crossing your field of vision in approximately twelve seconds."

Barton counted out the ticks of his watch and then focused in on the small black blob that was his partner. His vision jumped, zoomed, and refocused to the point where Natasha could have been no more than twenty feet away from him. Focusing any closer would have made it difficult to spot potential threats. "I've got you. Your route is clear. Are you getting all of this Coulson?" he asked, addressing his boss.

"We are with you every step of the way Agent Barton," Coulson confirmed.

"I'm through," Natasha said a moment later. Clint allowed his vision to zoom in on the room he was targeting just in time to watch Natasha pull off a truly spectacular take down of a heavy set man Clint could only assume was Drakov. "Drakov is down but I'll need help to get him out of hear."

"Ward move in," Coulson commanded. "Hawkeye cover them both after you send the flash drive in to Romanov."

"Yes Sir," Clint answered already notching the specially designed arrow into his bow. "Heads up Nat," he warned as he pulled back on the string and released the arrow. He zoomed his vision back out again immediately so that he could cover Ward's aproach. He fired three times in quick succession to ensure the agent would arrive safely, each shot finding it's target."

"The download is complete here I' just waiting on Agent Ward," Natasha confirmed.

"Great," Clint said dryly. "Because you do ever so well when you have down time.

" Just try to sit back and enjoy the quiet moment Romanov. You're good with quiet moments," Coulson suggested.

Barton made a pained expression. Tasha didn't take comments about silence well. You wouldn't think it if you didn't know her, but Natasha Romanov didn't actually enjoy radio silence. Instead of letting the silence continue Clint began humming instead, singing the words inside his head.

_Help!_

_ I need somebody,_

_ Help!_

_ Not just anybody,_

_ Help!_

_ I really need someone,_

_ Help!_

"Dude!" Skye chuckled over the speaker. "Are you seriously humming _Help _by the Beatles right now in the middle of an op?"

Clint shrugged even though he knew it didn't matter since Skye couldn't actually see him. "It's better than the Mission Impossible theme tune."

"That's true," Grant acknowledged as he began to cross Clint's field of vision.

"Well keep going," Skye said. "It lends some flare to have a sound track.

Clint shrugged again;

"_Oh when I was younger so much younger than today,_

_ I never needed anybody's help in any way._

_ But now, oh now, these days are gone,_

_ I'm not so self assured._

_ Now I, just need you like,_

_ I've never done before..."_

"We're on our way out with the information and Drakov now," Natasha said.

Clint stopped humming and simply covered Ward and Natasha's retreat. "You're clear," he declared. "I'll meet with you back at the buss in ten." All three S.H.I.E.L.D agents plus an unconscious Drakov being carried by Ward and Clint, and one flash drive Clint was pretty sure was being transported in Natasha's bras moved quickly back towards the buss and boarded the plane to reconvene with their team.

"Excellent work Agents," Coulson greeted. "But the work isn't done yet. Clint, go and give Fitz feed back on his arrow design. We might have to use it again. Romanov go and get that flash drive to Skye A.S.A.P ad help her if she needs it. Ward and May, you need to get Drakov into interrogation."

By the time the end of the day actually rolled around, pretty much everyone was exhausted. Clint had been flopped on the couch for ten minutes before Natasha dropped gracefully to the couch beside him. Clint looked at her closed eyes. "Tired?"

Natasha nodded and after a moment she allowed her head to tip sideways on to his shoulder. Clint simply adjusted his arm so that it was curled around her waist with her head resting over his heart. "Finish your song," she requested.

Clint Barton allowed a small smile to grace his features;

"_Help me if you can I'm feeling down,_

_ and I do appreciate you being round._

_ Help me get my feet back on the ground._

_ Won't you please... please please_

_ Help me! Help me! Help me!_

_ Oh _

**A/N: I am so sorry it took so long for me to get this update online! High school is death! I'm in the play and I don't get home until 9:45 at night when I still have homework. I hope people still enjoy this story. I hope you like this chapter. I was listening to the Beatles and this song got stuck in my head. Review for me!oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Well. I'm not Joss Whedon or Marvels comics. They are the lucky bastards that own all of this stuff so no, I don't own any of this nor am I paid for it.**

Being around people who could decimate other people with nothing but their bare hands wasn't anything new for Grant Ward. He worked as a field agent for a top secret government organization, practically everyone he worked with had been trained to take people down by any means necessary.

However, working with agents Barton and Romanov was nothing short of impressive. One or other of the two assassins would be formidable by themselves, but the two of them together were lethal. They acted like two people who were sharing one mind. Each of them covered for all of the less developed aspects of the other. Barton saw the big picture while agent Romanov looked at the details. They were the definition of a good Strike Team.

Though from the way the two agents had passed out on the couch, Grant guessed that there was a little more to the relationship than that. Of course S.H.I.E.L.D had rules about inter-agent relationships, but Coulson had apparently decided that in this case the rules were more like guide lines. Ward glanced at Skye, maybe those "guide lines" could be bent just a little bit further.

* * *

"Is this really necessary?" Barton asked. He had been reluctantly dragged in to the med lab by Coulson. He had made rather loud verbal protests, but ultimately had shut up when Natasha glared at him. Apparently he was slightly over due for a physical.

"You have skipped your physical appointments for the last four years," Coulson said. "And now that I have you here, it's perfect timing to make one of those up."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, trapped on a plane over the ocean at a height of at least fifteen thousand feet."

"Oh please Barton," Coulson scoffed. "We both know you could find at least one viable way of getting out of here if you wanted to. You probably worked out a plan as soon as you stepped on board." He stepped back and crossed his arms. "So? Do you feel like sharing so I can assess the security flaws?"

Barton sighed and leaned back, rolling his neck to pop the joint there. "Well, if I really wanted to, I would disable your team as I made my way through the plane to the parachutes. Then I would disengage the air lock and jump. We're over the ocean at the moment so I'd have a bit of a swim, but I'm sure a deep sea fishing boat would show up eventually."

Coulson hmmed neutrally. "Remind me to make the airlock control panel more difficult to access," he said as the door opened and Simmons walked in. "I'll be seeing you both later."

"You don't want to do that Coulson," Clint called. "It's a security hazard!" He turned to Simmons, "So what exactly do you need to check?"

"Um..." Simmons perused the chart she was clutching. "Blood pressure?" Barton looked at her skeptically. "Though maybe that can wait," Simmons said, backtracking quickly. "I need to check your blood for a vitamin, blood cell, and platelet count." Barton nodded and rolled up his sleeve. "I take it you're not trypanophobic?"

Clint frowned. "In English."

"It's a fear of needles," Simmons explained quickly. "I'll just.. okay." She quickly prepared the needle and extracted the correct amount of blood for a blood test. "So," Simmons said to try to break the silence. "Not trypanophobic then?"

"Apparently not," Barton said neutrally.

"Were you not given the standard vaccinations as a child?" Simmons pursued, storing Barton's blood in a vile for testing.

Clint shrugged. "I don't know. Probably. I've never had the measles or anything. I don't really get the company shots unless it's absolutely necessary. But, in the interest of ending this line of questioning, no. I'm not overly afraid of needles. My blood type is O negative in case that matters."

Simmons nodded and made a quick addition to her notes. The rest of the physical continued in relative silence on Barton's part. Simmons kept up a stream of chatter throughout which Barton paid attention to until it became clear that he wasn't going to learn anything very important about the team dynamic from her speech. "All right then. The only thing left is the optic exam."

Clint looked at her skeptically. "Are you actually serious about that?"

Jemma Simmons clicked into her best possible scientist mode. "It is in the paperwork agent Barton. So yes, I am actually serious. Now track the light with your eyes." She focused her pen light and had to stifle a gasp as she watched Hawkeyes pupils hit full dilation in nearly two seconds flat. "Amazing," she said to herself. "The rods and cones in your eye seem to be ratioed at quite an unusual level. Are there any colors you have difficulty perceiving?"

Clint shrugged. "Reds and blues are a bit faded. Greens and purples stand out. I don't really question it."

"What is the farthest range at which you can still claim accurate and detailed focus?" SImmons questioned.

Barton shrugged again. "I haven't tested it. I do what I need to do to get my job done. It just is what it is like everything else." This statement was met with absolute silence. "Can I go now?"

**A/N: So? Was it worth the wait? I realized that we hadn't had any interaction between Simmons and Barton and I thought I could put it in. This story might not be too much longer, but I think I've figured out a good ending. Let me know what you thought. Reviews are amazing! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**


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